


His icy touch

by Sweetdeath (CherieCherrybomb)



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherieCherrybomb/pseuds/Sweetdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain wants little Deimos to do as he says. </p><p>---<br/>Riding, blowjobs. Just sex!<br/>Eli's giftfic for her recently passed birthday <3 Happy bday  hun~</p>
            </blockquote>





	His icy touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



A soft breath escaped Deimos’ parted lips.  
“Wait like a good slut” were the last words Cain spoke before departing. He waited in what seems like hours in a cold, dark room. The empty area was used to store extra rations for the ship, but in between docking stations, it was left bare.  
Deimos curled up in the corner of the room, bringing his knees against his chest. He was trying to stay awake, but the cold made him sleepy.  
Another sigh.  
Then finally, he heard footsteps approaching. With instinct, he dove behind a large empty crate, bringing out his butterfly blade.

“Shlyukha…” came a soft purr. Deimos’ heart began to race. Biting his lower lip, he sheathed the blade, then he rose from his spot. A smirk appeared on Cain’s face. He lifted his finger and beckoned the smaller Fighter over. Deimos obeyed per usual, going to his side without another word. No, ‘sorry I left you waiting in the cold,’ or ‘Come here. I’ll make it better.’

Deimos was used to that though. He didn’t care about the illogical actions of his ways. He just wanted Cain. He’d do anything for the Fighter. He’d suffer the physical and mental torment when the Fighter was mad; had a bad run in with Encke during training. He’d bear the humiliation; after Cain gave him a pity fuck, he’d go on about how amazing Abel is in bed. How much of a slut he was, begging to be fucked; like that one time in the cockpit of the Reliant.  
Deimos bore with it all. He just wanted to please Cain, even a little…

His muscles were tense and stiff from being in the cold for so long. Cain didn’t care, though he seemed to notice Deimos clench and unclench his fist several times. 

“Want to give me a nice, _warm_ mouth to fuck, Myshonok?”  
Deimos nodded eagerly. His pulse raced once more at the attention.  
“Good. Come over here and get on your knees.”  
Despite the uncomfortable hardness of the ship’s floor, Deimos dropped to his knees, awaiting further instructions from Cain. He wouldn’t dare make a move without his words. He could of just taken Cain into his mouth immediately, but the Fighter liked to bark orders at him. Deimos was the only one who’d take it. Not Abel. Not Encke certainly.  
Cain reached down to run his fingers through the dark hair, tugging at a few strands idly. “Take me into your mouth. Suck hard, but go slow and make it last.”

Deimos nodded. A faint smile was plastered onto his face just a moment, but faded just as quickly. He began to open up Cain’s trousers, letting them bunch around the Russian’s ankles. With skillful fingers, he kept the cock steady at the base. It was already hard before he even put the tip between wet lips. He moaned at the heated cock in his mouth, though he tried to conceal his own pleasure. If Cain wanted to, he would yank at Deimos’ hair, tell him to go get his sick jollies somewhere else.

But he didn’t seem to notice..  
His eyes were shut, mouth parted to let out faint shallow breathing. Deimos’ sky blue eyes were watching his chest, fascinated by how it heaved faster or deeper with each movement. It was almost as if he was able to control Cain’s own life with his mouth.  
Cain did give a faint yank a moment later. Deimos was going too slow.

‘Fine,’ the other Fighter thought. He took the cock as far down as his throat would allow, feeling it press against his muscles. He didn’t choke or gag. He had too much training for this. Instead he gave a firm suck, swallowing saliva. Cain groaned audibly, giving the boy an encouraging pat.

Deimos continued to bob his head with long, deep intakes. He could feel Cain tensing up, so he slowed down. The Fighter would hit him if he made him come too fast.  
After a few moments, Cain shoved at Deimos, pushing him onto the floor hard.  
The Fighter silently gazed up at him through dark bangs, his blue eyes shining in the dimly lit room. He had a puzzled expression.

Cain sighed, leaning down to remove the pants gathered at his ankles. He removed his jacket and used it as a blanket, laying back on it. He nodded to Deimos, holding his own cock steady in one hand, the other folded behind his head.

The Fighter already knew what to do. He crawled over to Cain, beginning to remove his own uniform shyly. He hated his body. His scars reminded him every day how weak he was…  
With an obvious shiver, he began to suck at his own two fingers, moistening the digits completely. Once done, he shifted them to the back of his body, penetrating himself with a whimper. His gaze averted Cain’s entirely. He didn’t want the other Fighter to see him this way. So weak. So very exposed.  
After Deimos stretched himself to satisfaction, he moved to straddle Cain. The Fighter was already impatient. He immediately pressed his cock into Deimos’ body in spite of the muffled cry he gave. He pushed all the way instead, smirking at the frame that writhed above him. One hand held his hip in place, the other curling itself around his small throat.

He enjoyed the look in Deimos’ eyes. No defiance. No fear. Just obedience. Deimos would die for Cain, that’s what he thought. If he told him to kill for him, he would as well. He’s already slept with several officers to get information, the little slut. But he was Cain’s little slut.

“Move your own ass, Myshonok.”

Deimos shut his eyes, the fingers around his throat making his movements jerked and slightly off balance. He rode Cain’s cock hard, bouncing off his pelvis, his own cock dripping with need.  
Cain didn’t keep his voice down. He moaned loudly, his voice melting with the room’s echo. Clearly, he didn’t give a fuck if anyone heard. Though he doubt anyone would be in the lower area around this time. There weren’t any rules about Fighters not being allowed to fuck each other. Especially once training is over.  
Deimos continued to ride Cain, purposely tensing his own abdominal muscles to bring the Fighter a more constricted feel each thrust. After a while, Cain began to buck on his own, forcing Deimos down with both hands grasping at his hips. He came into the Fighter with an animalistic growl, saliva glistening on the side of his mouth.

Deimos wanted to come. He held his orgasm in, so he was shuddering with extreme need for release. Cain threw the boy off, panting hard. He stood up, retrieving his pants to redress. Deimos sat on the floor, still trembling. He didn’t dare ask Cain to finish him off.

“Not bad…” Cain began, fixing the laces on his left boot. “You want to come, shlyukha?”  
Deimos nodded quickly in response. His hands were at his side, forcing himself not to touch.

“Touch yourself. I want to see you bring out your own orgasm.” Cain reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out his black cigarettes. He casually lit one up as Deimos rested on his knees, one hand wrapped around his own cock, the other behind his back to steady himself.  
His dry lips parted; strokes gentle, but firm. He kept his eyes averted, but took a few short glances at Cain when he Fighter closed his eyes, blowing smoke out through parted lips. Deimos wondered what it would be to slip through those lips, down the Fighter’s throat. Could he see his heart? His dreams? His ambitions?  
Cain was so closed off. Even when they were at the orphanage, he never went into great detail about himself. Deimos supposed it was for the best. Once a Fighter, all you become is a task name. Your past is irrelevant.  
He didn’t look at Cain as he came. It was almost immediate. He bit his lip in anticipation for Cain’s laughter. But the other Fighter merely stood there smoking. He didn’t seem to care either way.

“I’ll see you around then, Myshonok. Better put on some clothes before you catch a cold. Can’t have my informant taking any sick days.”  
And with that, Cain’s footsteps faded in the distance, leaving Deimos in the cold, wondering why he won’t ever refuse him.


End file.
